


that sense of je ne sais quoi

by harscrow



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: M/M, mentions of unrequited!Gafou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 09:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10384011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harscrow/pseuds/harscrow
Summary: The surprise that gushed from his heart as he found himself being held by another man, is soon replaced by something different. LeFou has never felt so light before, maybe because not even in his wildest dreams he ever hoped to dance with a guy in a crowded ballroom.But this is really happening to him, the tender heat of Stanley’s body so close to his own a reminder of the fact that he’s not dreaming. And this, to be honest, is better than any fantasy he’s ever had about Gaston.





	

The surprise that gushed from his heart as he found himself being held by another man, is soon replaced by something different. LeFou has never felt so light before, maybe because not even in his wildest dreams he ever hoped to dance with a guy in a crowded ballroom.

 

But this is really happening to him, the tender heat of Stanley’s body so close to his own a reminder of the fact that he’s not dreaming. And this, to be honest, is better than any fantasy he’s ever had about Gaston. His face gets gloomy for a moment because – despite everything – the realization of him being dead still weighs on his difficult feelings like a stone. But then LeFou can’t help mirroring the confident, beautiful smile Stanley’s giving him. Gaston has never looked so happy to be in his company, has never been so grateful for his sole presence.

 

Has Stanley always looked at him that way? LeFou wishes he could remember.

 

“You are such a good dancer.” He hears the other man complimenting him, interrupting the questions swirling around in his head.

 

LeFou’s cheeks turn red at that, and he fumbles for words. ‘Say something, LeFou. Anything at all. This is just your friend Stanley.’ He encourages himself. “I, uh- Thanks? Thanks. You too.”

 

Except that Stanley isn’t just Stanley anymore, as the fluttering sensation in his stomach cares to prove him. LeFou stares into his eyes, feet moving on their own as the handsome features of his partner never cease to shine with composed joy. My, what a gentleman.

 

“Where did you learn to dance like this?”

 

“I practiced a lot. On my own.”

 

LeFou chuckles as he pictures Stanley spinning around in his room, and for some reason that thought has nothing to do with mockery. Instead, there’s a subtle veil of regret at the back of his mind, because if only he had known earlier… if only he hadn’t been so wrapped up chasing the wrong man… yeah, if only. Maybe Stanley wouldn’t have had to practice all alone.

 

“What is it?” Stanley asks. “Is this too much?” He sounds concerned, his hand sliding into LeFou’s.

 

“No.” LeFou glances at their hands, cherishing the warmth of Stanley’s palm against his own. “This is- This feels good.” He decides, tightening the grip on the other’s chiseled shoulder.

 

Nobody is uttering a word about the two men. _Mesdames et Messieurs_ – unfazed in their own gallant happiness – courteously make way for them, not daring to divide the dancing couple. LeFou supposes that witnessing a spell that turns people into talking furniture makes any other peculiarity really irrelevant.

 

Mrs Potts gives them a content, gentle smile from afar, winking in LeFou’s direction. That is the encouragement he needs to lean closer, his cheek resting against Stanley’s. “Is this too much?” He echoes the previous question, Stanley’s sideburn scratching sweetly against his skin, and his heart thumping wild and free in his chest.

 

“ _No_ , _mon ami_. _C’est parfait_.”

 

LeFou knows he’s never basked in such a kind embrace. He’s not used to it, but it’s what he’s been craving for all his life. The dulcet music could stop any moment, and he wouldn’t care. He would keep on dancing, slowly, gracefully sliding on the marble floor in a quiet _pas de deux_ that could go on for ages.

 

A bad habit though, worms his way into LeFou’s precious, fragile bubble of happiness. Some noxious insecurity, louder than Maestro Cadenza’s composition. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to dance with one of these _demoiselles_?”

 

Stanley looks at him with candid enthusiasm, shaking his head as he distances himself just to step closer once again. “It’s you, LeFou. It’s always been you.”

 

Such a confession – causing Stanley to violently blush – catches LeFou unawares to say the least. “Oh!” He gasps, and his whole world starts twirling so fast he can barely think. It feels like those times he drank too much wine at the inn in what usually was a failed attempt at impressing Gaston, and then he couldn’t quite stand on his feet anymore. Now that he comes to think of it, Stanley was always there to pick up his half unconscious body and carry him home. Not once complaining about it. Oh, god.

 

“Would you join me for dinner tomorrow?”

 

The music quietens down, and all of a sudden hundreds of clapping hands choke down the silence with sheer delight and compliments for Cadenza. LeFou needs to sit down, but he only manages to loosen his burgundy bow tie.

 

He wants to say yes. Yes. He can feel that simple, single word rolling back and forth on his tongue, and yet he can’t bring himself to pronounce it. “I don’t know, Stan.” He hesitates, fighting against a resistance that shouldn’t even be there in the first place. “I think I need more time to clear my head. It all happened so fast, and Ga-”

 

Stanley clears his throat, fiddling with the cuffs of his white shirt. It’s like he doesn’t want to even hear that name again. “That’s fine,” he smiles, a little sigh parting from his lips. He has very beautiful lips, LeFou notices. “I can wait. When you are ready to move on, _mon ami_ , just knock on my door.”

 

LeFou stands there, bedazzled, as his friend bends to kiss his hand with surprising delicacy. He wishes he could have the strength to grab his pretty face and put his mouth on Stanley’s, but he doesn’t. Not yet. The man in front of him takes a bow before walking away, and LeFou watches him go with an amazed grin.

 

So that’s how affection is supposed to be? Easy, respectful. Not scornful, nor rough. Pleasing, very far from the aching drought LeFou used to live off for so long.

 

‘Soon’, he promises himself, pressing both hands on his heart. It might need some time to adjust to the brutal displacement of his devotion, but Stanley certainly gives LeFou that sense of _je ne sais quoi_ that is going to make it worth the effort.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help but write a little something about these two. They are literally too precious for this world <3  
> I apologise if something in the text sounds unnatural or there are some mistakes, but English is not my mother tongue and I've got no beta atm.  
> Well, I hope this warmed your hearts as much as it warmed mine all the same :3


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